


the moment I knew

by Fionakevin073



Series: Long Live All the Magic We Made [5]
Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Love Triangles, POV Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 23:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fionakevin073/pseuds/Fionakevin073
Summary: Where Charles and Henry come to the same realisation at different times about the same woman. Part 5 of Long Live All the Magic We Made.





	the moment I knew

**Author's Note:**

> A/N hey guys, this will be the final one-shot that request that I will respond to for a few days because I still have some exams and should be studying right now. Thank you all for your continued and amazing support, it’s been so great hearing what you think. Feel free to ask for more one-shots but I won’t post anything for a couple of days. :( Sorry about that. Anyway, this prompt was asked for by Guest— and I’m not sure whether or not this is the same one who asked for one-shots in both Henry and Charles POV— but I’m fulfilling both requests. This features Anne and Charles fluff in one half and then in the other it features fluff from Henry VIII’s POV. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all! 
> 
> Until next time, 
> 
> Fionakevin073

 

 

_That was the moment I knew— Taylor Swift, Moment I knew_

 

**Charles POV**

 

_August 30th 1537, two weeks after Henry allows Charles to return to Pembroke_

 

It had been the first day the sun was out in about a week. Elizabeth and Henry were at their lessons and the boys were still slumbering in the nursery and Charles, having finished writing some important letters and managing some matters for his estates, set out to find Anne. It pleased him greatly to be back at Pembroke, more than he had ever thought possible. Those months at court had past by dreadfully slow and when Henry had informed him—grudgingly, with a surprising hint of jealousy in his eyes— that he permitted him to return to Pembroke, it had taken every inch of power he possessed to not smile. 

 

Anne’s ladies were in the outer rooms of her apartment, giggling amongst themselves. They had grown used to the friendship between the two of them and no longer used formalities to introduce their presence into a room when they were at Pembroke. So Charles made his way into Anne’s room, his eyes searching for her familiar figure. 

 

It was quiet in the room, the mid-afternoon light cascading into the room through the shutters, giving everything a quiet glow. Charles moved around the room quietly, looking for Anne and his heart leapt to his throat when he caught sight of her. She was sitting on some pillows by one of the windows, where her ladies had arranged blankets on the ledge so that she could sit there and read comfortably. Her dark locks were let loose so they tumbled down to her stomach, though two pieces were pinned back so that they did not get in her eyes. She was wearing a gold tight fitting gown that gave her skin this breath taking glow and made her cheeks look beautifully flushed. 

 

She had never been so beautiful to him in that moment. She frowned adorably at the book in her hands, biting down on her lower lip. Charles merely stood there, gobsmacked, unwilling to disturb her. Something warm was spreading in his chest—something warm and unfamiliar that made him feel as though his heart was _glowing._ In that moment, he understood _why_ Henry had moved heaven and Earth to marry her. He understood why so many men gave up their kingdom for the love of a woman. 

 

Her eyes flickered to the side, now taking notice of his presence. Her face broke out into a smile and Charles lifted a hand to stop her when she wanted to come and greet him. 

 

_I love you,_ Charles realised, _I love you._

 

In that moment, he wanted to tell her. Truly, he did. But he knew that she still loved Henry, remembering her words from a few weeks ago where she told him tearfully, _I wish I could stop. I don’t know how to stop._

 

And so he bit his tongue though a smile still played on his lips. He moved forward so that he was now standing in front of her and bent down to kiss her, much to Anne’s surprise. 

 

“You’re in a good mood,” she commented, laughter in her voice. 

 

“You have no idea,” he told her, cradling her face in his hands and bent forward to press his lips to hers once more. 

 

And that was the moment he knew. 

 

* * *

 

**Henry’s POV**

 

_After Anne’s second coronation_

 

When Henry had first fallen in love with Anne, he would have gladly given up his kingdom if it meant that he could be with her. He had loved her with an intensity that consumed him for years but after they were married her found himself growing slowly more disillusioned with her, to the point where he believed that he no longer loved. He had thought himself to be in love with Jane but Henry admitted to himself that the peak of his feelings for Jane did not even approach the depth and passion of his love for Anne. 

 

When the truth about Anne’s supposed infidelity came to light, Henry was surprised by how relieved he was that it was untrue. He had been immeasurably hurt and angered by the accusations, angry and jealous that he had spent seven years waiting for her when all she had been doing was playing with his feelings, manipulating him so that she could become Queen and bring favour upon her numerous lovers. 

 

Anne was _his,_ his to love and his to hold. The thought of another man being with her in the most carnal sense made him want to drive his fist through a wall. Even now, after Anne’s re-coronation, the thought still made him mad with jealousy. The amusing and somewhat ironic part was was that Anne could now take a lover if she so wished, now being more secure in her position and loved by the people than any other Queen had been before. If anyone dared make a move against her now, the people would do more than uprise against him. More importantly, Henry would never hurt her ever again. 

 

He loved Anne, yes, but Henry was not so sure as to whether or not he was _in love_ with her anymore. Regardless, he knew that he desperately desired her forgiveness and friendship. He knew that he waned them to fall in love with each other again. Even if it took years of him being celibate, he would wait until she could stand his touch once more. 

 

Henry began to fall in love with Anne all over again without even realising it. When he did find out, it was in the most simplest of ways. 

 

He had been looking for his children, eager to spend some time with them even though it was early in the morning. When he had gone to their rooms however—the one’s that Anne had insisted on being installed in the palace, so that her children could be close to her— he discovered that they gone to their mother’s chambers during the night, still uneasy living in their new home. 

 

And so he entered Anne’s bed chamber quietly, looking for his children. To his surprise however, he found them all asleep in the same bed. Elizabeth was on the far side of the bed, sleeping soundly next to Anne, her face buried in her mothers neck. The boys were on the other side of Anne, who had her arm wrapped sleepily around William and George, with Francis and Mark snuggling close to their brothers, as though they were trying to get as close their mother as they could. 

 

Henry could not describe the emotions boiling in his chest. There was love and adoration of course but yet there was a hint of guilt. He had not been much of a father to them when they had first been born, and had nearly sentenced their mother to death. He shook his head, eager to rid himself of these dark thoughts. This was a good day; this was a beautiful moment that he did not wish to ruin. 

 

Something began to unfurl in his chest as he stared at Anne’s delicate features, taking note of the colour of her skin and the curve of her mouth. He could not quite describe it. It was fondness and affection yes, but it was something else too. Something far deeper. Anne began to stir under his gaze and blinked at him with surprise. 

 

“Your maje—“ 

 

“Shh,” he whispered quietly, carefully sitting at the edge of the bed, cautious not to sit on Elizabeth’s legs, “We don’t want to wake them.” 

 

She smiled at him faintly, though there was a small hint of wariness in her eyes as she watched him, as though waiting for him to pounce. For a moment he was at a loss for words, this unfamiliar emotion making him tongue-tied. Finally, he settled for reaching for her hand—the one that was closest to him— and kissed it gently. 

 

“Thank you,” he told her, loud enough so only she could hear, “Thank you.” 

 

What he really meant was: _I love you._

 

And that was the moment he knew. 

 

* * *

 

 

End. 


End file.
